


Straw Bullets

by ScarecrowLullaby



Category: Arkham Asylum (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Criminal Minds
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Crossover, M/M, Multi, batman x criminal minds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarecrowLullaby/pseuds/ScarecrowLullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jonathan Crane escapes Arkham and runs into SSA Spencer Reid in Gotham, life will never be the same for either man. The question is, whose will is going to break first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rising Storms

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welcome to my first REAL attempt at writing a fan fic. I know I have others posted, but this is the first one I've written where I have planned out a plot and have someone to keep me on top of things.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or happenings from Batman, Criminal Minds, or DC comics.
> 
> Constructive criticism is loved!

**Rising Storms**

"Hell is empty and all the Devils are here."

William Shakespeare

 

A map skittered on the ground, one foot, then two, before the wind caught it and carried it up into the air. The paper it was printed on was in a sorry state. It was tattered and torn, battered like the city it depicted; like the man it was intercepted by.

Jonathan Crane was running once again. If it wasn't from the cops, it was from Batman. If it wasn't from Batman it was from the horrors trapped in his mind. If Jonathan Crane wasn't running, he was screaming. He wasn't always heard, no. But in this city called Gotham, you could scream into a megaphone in the middle of the busiest restaurant during rush hour, and no one would do anything except tell you to shut up.

The wind kicked up, pushing harder against the sodden piece of paper that tried to light the way for the lost. It whistled and roared, tearing through the thin material of the man's Arkham Asylum uniform, finally wrenching the map away from his person and forcing it on its way.

If fate were kind that would have been the last obstacle the escapee would have hindering his escape from the Caped Crusader and a cruiser with two of Gotham's finest. As it were, fate was not in the mood to be kind to the young doctor. A fact that became blaringly obvious when his next turn caused him to stumble and indirectly tackle a young man to the saturated ground.

Twin groans of pain fell from the lips of both men as they lay on the pavement, slightly dazed from their collision. Jonathan wished he could stay in that position, but both the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the looming threat of being captured forced him to his feet. To his surprise, the other man had already managed to get back up and had extended his hand to him. Crane took it to steady himself as he finished righting himself and began to mumble an apology when the other man's eyes fell on his Asylum jumpsuit.

Confusion played over the young man's face as if he were trying to place the name of the Asylum and then his eyes snapped to Jonathan's face. Shit.

"Jonathan Crane," the brown haired man began, his face not betraying even a trace of fear when he recognized the escaped inmate.

Crane turned, preparing to take off again when his name was repeated. This time, however, a frightening growl replaced the soft, surprised voice of the stranger. Double shit. Before the doctor could take off, he found himself shoved against the wall of the nearest building with his arms pinned painfully behind his back.

The next minute or so was one of the more confusing times of Jonathan's twenty-nine years of life. One second he was pinned to the wall by Batman, one of the only things that could cause him any amount of fear, the next Batman had released him and the man he had run into was holding his wallet out towards the Bat's face. What could the kid possibly be thinking? A wallet wasn't going to – oh.

Jonathan saw the flash of what looked like FBI credentials as Batman withdrew and nodded in acknowledgement of the new information. He lingered to see the younger man put Jonathan, who was to surprised to react, into handcuffs. Then, he disappeared with the sound of a grappling gun pulling him up through the empty space of the alley next to them.

"Dr. Crane, you are being placed under arrest for evading imprisonment. You will be returned to Arkham Asylum to carry out the remainder of your sentence." Surprisingly strong arms guided the man to a black SUV parked outside of the nearest shop, a coffee shop, where he was then directed into the back seat and secured into place. How the Hell had that happened?

How had he gone from outrunning Batman to being handcuffed in the back of an FBI issue vehicle? Ignoring the obvious answer that he had been apprehended by the Bat and then taken into custody by some kid, that worked for the FBI, he began trying to figure out a way to get out of his current predicament.

"Dr. Crane, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" The agent looked up and met his gaze in the rearview mirror as the SUV slowed to a stop at a red light, and for once the gaze that fell upon Jonathan Crane wasn't filled with contempt, only curiosity.

Against his better judgment Crane nodded and twisted his hands behind his back, trying to pull his hands out of the cuffs that hung slightly too large on his wrists. He was minutely interested in what the person in front of him had to say, but he was much more interested in escaping. He kept his eyes trained on the man in the front seat, lurching back as they started moving a little too quickly. He raised a brow ever so slightly as the agent mumbled under his breath, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Sorry, I'm not the best at driving in crowded cities, or at all really." Light brown eyes, almost the color of caramel, glanced up at him in the rearview mirror briefly before flickering back to the road.

"Obviously," Crane spat out, annoyance winning out over curiosity. Of all the ways there were to die or be injured, being in a car accident because of an incompetent FBI agent's driving skills wasn't on the list of the most appealing. The agent seemed to want to curl into himself at the harshness of Crane's words, but refrained as it would only lead to more driving mishaps.

After collecting himself the agent cleared his throat and addressed Jonathan once more, "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid." As if he could feel Jonathan's look of disbelief he flexed his fingers nervously and glanced up at the rearview mirror again. "No, I'm not lying. That really is my title, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I have a few questions for you."

Reid hit the brakes as a taxi cut out in front of them, mumbling under his breath and forcing himself to focus on the road. He regained his composer licked his lips thoughtfully. Jonathan only just managed to avoid rolling his eyes at the younger doctor, even he could drive more safely than this and he didn't even own a car.

"How did you create your fear toxin?" Reid questioned curiously. Crane may have tried to poison the inhabitants of the Narrows of Gotham, but that didn't mean it wasn't an incredible accomplishment or any less fascinating.

To say that the question took Jonathan off guard would be an understatement. In the months since Batman had first apprehended him and he had been thrown into Arkham to rot, he had been asked hundreds of questions. In all of those endless hours of interrogation and therapy sessions no one had ever asked about how he had done it though, no one had been interested in the development of such a powerful substance. The only things that people cared about were finding out if there was more toxin, why he had done it, or if he was satisfied now that he'd become a victim of his own weapon – the only victim who hadn't been given the antidote.

"It took years," he said softly. "I started working on it when I was still in college. Not to mention the cost was hardly covered by the salary of a college professor. It was better when I was fired from that job…  Shoot a gun as an example one time," here he trailed off, lost in the memory of the looks of pure terror on the faces of his students when he had shot the gun to prove a statement about fear. "I wasn't able to truly begin developing the toxin to its full potential until I became the administrator of Arkham Asylum. I finally had the money to pay for the various components that made up the toxin compound. There was a list of willing test subjects and an even longer list of unwilling ones.

"They trusted me, I made them trust me enough to have them allow me test the toxin on them. Some trusted me so much that they allowed a second testing even after they'd suffered through the first test." By this point a smile that was like that of a child seeing heaps of presents under a Christmas tree had spread over Crane's face and he had forgotten about pulling his slender hands through the handcuffs. A shudder went down Reid's spine as he saw that look.

"You were - you are - a fairly successful psychiatrist aren't you Dr. Crane? To be able to manipulate someone's thoughts like that… it takes an extreme amount of skill. I would love to see how you could perform on the opposite side of the interrogation. I bet you could be one of the best interrogators in all of Gotham if you wa-." Seeing the death glare that he was receiving from the other man, Reid shut his mouth almost instantly. "Sorry, I just meant that your accomplishments, even the toxin, have all been highly impressive."

Reid turned off of the bridge that lead to the narrows and onto a mostly empty road that lead to the center of the island and Arkham Asylum. He fell silent as he drove, hoping he hadn't insulted Crane when he had gone off on an impressed rant.

"Dr. Reid," Crane began to cover up the sound of the handcuffs as he began working his hand through the gap, forcing his face to remain passive as the skin tore slightly. "I can't help but notice that you seem reluctant to return me to Arkham. Would you perhaps like to take a detour and chat for a while? I am more than certain you could contain me easily enough. I'm not too, uh, strong, after all." His hand finally pulled free of the cuff, the skin tearing enough to begin dripping blood.

Reid chewed his lip thoughtfully, it was true, and he did want to talk with the other doctor. The man was a genius and his fear toxin was nothing short of incredible, but he couldn't give into his own wishes. The man belonged in Arkham and he couldn't let his own desires stand in the way of the law.

He opened his mouth to decline Crane's offer, only to be interrupted by the back door flying open. Why the hell hadn't he locked the doors? Moments later Crane smirked and gave a short wave and leaped from the car and onto the dirt stretch that ran alongside the road.

Panic rose in Reid's chest as he slammed on the brakes, thank God that there was no one behind him, and turned to see where the man had landed. His light brown eyes opened in shock as he saw the escapee already back on his feet, running down the steep, rocky incline that bordered the stretch of road after only a few feet on either side. This always seemed to happen when he lacked back up.

  



	2. Receding Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I must reluctantly admit, I still do not own Batman or Criminal Minds. I only own the idea for this story and the small hope that someday I will own the two.

**Receding Tides**

"All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better."

\- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Spencer Reid was not a weak person; he didn't cry at the sight of blood, he didn't stop chasing a deadly criminal because his lungs were burning, he didn't stop protecting the victims of those criminals just because it meant getting shot. No, Spencer Reid was not weak at all, but, he was human. Taking a bullet to the leg to protect Dr. Barton had left him at a severe disadvantage when it came to chasing down criminals. He had come a long way after being shot, especially since the injury had been so close to his knee, but his range of motion was still far below what it had been. Here and now, there was nothing that the young doctor could do as he watched another young doctor, though not as young as himself, make his way farther and farther out of his grasp.

However, this was not the time to wallow in self-pity. No, that was not something Spencer Reid would allow himself to do. He was a member of the FBI, he had been a hostage, he had become addicted to Diliaud by another man's hands, he had been shot and kicked while he was down, and he had overcome every hurdle in his path. He was not going to let such an asinine thing as a knee injury keep him from bringing Jonathan Crane back to where he belonged at Arkham Asylum.

Forcing himself to remove all emotional ties of admiration for the fleeing escapee, Reid pulled out his cell phone, speed dialed his unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, and accelerated the car forward quickly enough to close the rear door that Crane had left open as he fled, switched the police lights and sirens on, and pulled an illegal u-turn to follow his suspect. He was not going to let him escape from custody again, not if he could help it.

On the incline below, Jonathan Crane was running once again. This time was no different than any of the others, he ran to escape being captured. It wasn't from the Bat or his past this time, but from an admirer of sorts. He had never had a true admirer, not for his fear toxin or any of his other accomplishments, but this one was trying to bring him back to the place he hated most.

Amadeus Arkham had begun transforming his ancestral home into Arkham Asylum in 1920, and even he hadn't had a clue of what the place of supposed treatment would become. He didn't know that he himself would be locked among its walls, scratching enchantments into the stone floor of his cell with his fingernails until he died. He didn't know what would take place when the inmates temporarily took over the asylum on the first of April some half a century later. He couldn't have known, because he was insane as the ones he tried to save. Even more insane than them in some ways when you considered what he had done to Mad Dog as punishment for killing his wife and daughter.

Perhaps that was the moment that sealed the fate of Arkham Asylum, the moment when Arkham himself killed one of his oldest patients by electrocuting him. Perhaps it was the moment when Batman himself was overwhelmed by all of the horrors that Arkham held in its walls, and thus set free the inmates he had left to rot. Or perhaps it had been there before the asylum was even a house, buried in the very earth itself. It may never be known what causes Arkham Asylum to sap away the light of a soul as it does, but Jonathan Crane didn't want to stay there and watch it do so. Not to him, not to those around him.

There was fear in everyone, and Jonathan Crane was no exception. He may be the self-proclaimed "Master of Fear", he could have been Fear itself, but he would still have fear of something. That is why he ran, because he knew, though he would never admit it, that he was terrified of Arkham. It terrified him more than Batman, more than his great-grandmother when she was angry, more than crows. He wouldn't go back, not if he could help it.

In fact, it looked like he wouldn't have to go back, like he was going to outrun the lone FBI agent chasing him. Looks can be deceiving, though. If he hadn't been so focused on not falling down the incline and concussing himself on the thousands of rocks around him, he would have noticed the second and third SUVs that had joined the first one. He would have seen the man he would later learn was called Derek Morgan racing down the opposite side of the incline; stun gun raised and ready to be used. As it was, he was too focused to notice, and it wasn't until he heard the man shouting for him to raise his hands, one still bleeding heavily from being ripped out of the handcuff, that he finally realized he would have to go back to Arkham yet again. Fate was too cruel to allow anything else to happen.

Reid's knee throbbed from the chill of Gotham's air as he stood outside of the Gotham City Police Department. He wasn't one for smoking, but right now he felt like anything that could relieve the stress of getting Jonathan Crane back to Arkham would be acceptable. As Morgan had hauled the screaming and kicking man back up to the road, not bothering to handcuff the man as it was obvious it wouldn't do any good, Crane had screamed that he would kill himself the second he was put back in his cell if they made him go back to Arkham.

If that had been all the man had said, he would have gone back to Arkham. After all, it was equipped to handle threats of suicide and had several suicidal or manically depressed patients in its wards. However, this was Jonathan Crane, and he was smarter than that. He not only threatened to kill himself, he had threatened to release stores of toxin that he had rigged during his last escape. Reid knew that there were no hidden toxin stores, but that wasn't enough to convince the GCPD.

Crane had managed to pollute the entire supply of Gotham's water with toxin before; there was nothing that led the police to believe that he hadn't managed to rig a few air ventilation units with it, as well. Except for the fact that he had only been out for two days the last time he had escaped. Reid wasn't an expert on creating fear toxin, but he was fairly accomplished at chemistry in general, and he knew that a compound as complex as the fear toxin was took more than two days to make.

Yet another sigh fell from his pale lips as he ran a hand through his already messy brown locks. He felt useless. Hotch didn't think it was safe for him to be in interrogation with Morgan and Prentiss incase Crane took advantage of his injury, and the GCPD seemed to think that he was just a kid who didn't know anything about anything when it came to crime fighting. Hotch had come to his defense the instant he noticed the treatment of his youngest agent, but Reid knew that it wouldn't change the opinions of such a biased and corrupt police force.

The soft click of the door being pushed open snapped him out of his thoughts as Commissioner Jim Gordon stepped outside with an extra mug of coffee in his hands. Reid's eyes must have lit up, because when the Commissioner looked up a soft chuckle rose from his chest and he pushed the extra mug into the young profiler's chilled hands.

"I figured you could use a little pick-me-up after being banished from interrogation. You take extra sugar, right?"

A smile found it's way onto Reid's face as he took a sip of the hot liquid and found it to be the perfect mixture of coffee, a dash of cream, and between seven and nine spoonfuls of sugar. The liquid burned a pleasant path down his throat all the way to his stomach and he leaned back against the brick wall contently.

"Thank you," he said softly, curious as to how the Commissioner had known how he took his coffee.

Gordon nodded in acknowledgement and took a sip of his own coffee, content to just share the companionable silence with the young doctor for the moment. It lasted for a few minutes, but they both knew that there was more to the gesture than just being friendly, even if that was a large amount of it.

Clearing his throat softly, Gordon took another sip of coffee to gather his thoughts and then lifted his gaze to meet the lively caramel eyes that were fixed on him.

"You really believe that Crane is lying to stay out of Arkham," he questioned softly.

Reid stayed silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes," he answered in a steady tone. "I think the city is in no danger of being attacked by the Scarecrow. However," he stood up to his full height, wanting the Commissioner to know that he was fully certain in his next statement, "I don't think that returning Dr. Crane to Arkham Asylum will help him heal anymore than beating him would."

Thoughts raced around in Reid's brain as he formed his next sentences carefully. He wanted what was best for the escaped asylum patient, but he had to consider how his request would look to everyone else. He had to present it in a way that would make it look like it was the only option if Jonathan Crane was to ever recover. He knew that if the man were to remove his shirt there would be considerable bruising; his small stature and nervous nature were enough to have him be the victim of countless inmates at Arkham. If anyone would know about being bullied for being smart and seemingly unable to defend him or herself; it was Reid. The fact that Crane was being attack would aid him, but it wouldn't be enough to convince Gordon by itself. Then it hit him. Not wanting to seem too excited, Reid forced himself to take a sip of coffee before he continued.

"I think that Dr. Jonathan Crane should be released from Arkham Asylum and put on parole." When the Commissioner moved to speak, Reid held up a hand to silence him, he needed to finish before he lost his momentum. "Dr. Crane is a brilliant man, and it is clear that he is to terrified of Arkham to receive any help there. I don't blame him for being terrified, he is small and vulnerable and surrounded by dangerous criminals like the Joker and the Killer Croc, he doesn't stand a chance against one of them.

"He also doesn't stand a chance of having a role model to show him what he should act like." Reid's mind raced as he brought forth everything he could remember reading about the young doctor from his Arkham files. His fingers began to twitch, both with excitement and nervousness, as he put the events of Crane's past into a form that would aid him the most. "Crane has never had the opportunity to truly grow into a "civil" human being. An extremely abusive great-grandmother who would've allowed his grandmother to kill him if she hadn't wanted her own personal slave raised him. His mother didn't care about him; she never even hugged her own child. His father was never in the picture. His only friend in the world was the one he made up; the Scarecrow.

Scarecrow wants to protect Jonathan from being hurt like he was when he was with his Great-Grandmother, but he doesn't know that Jonathan isn't in danger anymore. As long as Jonathan's alter ego believe that there is no one in the world that will show Jonathan kindness or treat him like a human being, he will continue to lash out at the people who surround him."

Reid looked up at Commissioner Gordon to judge his reaction to his statements so far. Gordon's face was calm, showing no traces of refusing the young agent's statement, but it didn't show any traces of supporting it either. The young genius took another gulp of coffee and prepared to speak his request out loud.

"Jonathan Crane doesn't need to be thrown into an Asylum to be driven completely over the edge Commissioner Gordon. He needs to be in an environment where he can live a normal life and learn that there is still kindness in the world. He needs someone to help him relearn how to act and think. Not only about the world and humanity as a whole, but about himself too."

Taking a deep breath Reid set the cup of coffee on the wall to his right and locked eyes with Commissioner Gordon. "Commissioner Gordon, I would like to request the release of Dr. Jonathan Crane under the circumstances of an ankle bracelet being worn by the doctor, recommended medications being prescribed daily under watch to make sure they are ingested, and strict limitations on his access to anything that could be used to create a biological weapon similar to that of the Fear Toxin he created."

For a few moments there was silence, neither man spoke, neither moved, Reid didn't even breathe. Then Gordon bent his head slightly to push his glasses up with his right hand before bringing his gaze up to meet with Reid's once more.

"It's not my choice to make, Dr. Reid," he said with a pointed gaze to the rooftop of the Police Department. "It's up to him."

Outlined against the night sky stood Batman, cape billowing out dramatically behind him, face hidden behind the darkness of his cowl as he moved to step off the edge of the building. He remained in freefall for merely seconds before his cape went rigid and he glided down to land on the side walk a mere twenty feet from the pair. His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto Reid and he felt himself resisting the urge to curl into himself under the intensity of the gaze.

Neither Gordon nor Reid spoke as the Bat approached them. Reid hadn't been aware of the man's presence, but he got the idea that was the way Batman wanted it. Drawing from his reserves of excess courage, Reid forced himself to stand tall and meet the man's eyes.

"Dr. Reid, your idea sounds nice. It may even be successful if it were to be tried, but you forgot one thing." The man stopped a mere foot from Reid and locked eyes with the man. "Who would want to baby-sit a well known criminal who tried to wipe out the Narrows without even a second thought?"

Surprising even himself with his words and the audacity to contradict anything the Bat said, Reid spoke a single world.

"Me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Amadous Arkham's past and the event of the inmates taking of Arkham on April 1st in the 1970's was vaguely based off of the events of Batman: Arkham Asylum, a Serious House on Serious Earth.
> 
> Jonathan Crane's history is mostly based off of the comic, Scarecrow: Year One.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and any comments or kudos are much appreciated and gladly welcomed!


	3. Echoing Blasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I must reluctantly admit, I still do not own Batman or Criminal Minds. I only own the idea for this story and the small hope that someday I will own the two.

" _Wars and elections are both too big and too small to matter in the long run. The daily work - that goes on, it adds up."_  


\- Barbara Kingsolver

It had been silent in the interrogation room for almost an hour. Silent except for the hum of the fluorescent lighting overhead and the occasional muffled voice passing through the wall from the room behind the one-way glass. Jonathan Crane had been in interrogation rooms before, they were meant to be sound proofed so that the prisoners couldn't hear the conversations on the other side of the glass. If he was hearing voices it meant one of two things.

The first option was that he was going insane, and that wasn't an option at all. The second option was that there were people yelling – that one seemed much more likely than the first. Jonathan Crane was not a fan of yelling, if there was yelling going on in the room outside of his current confinement it was likely that something horrible was going to happen to him. Normally yelling where he was concerned involved the Bat.

Crane froze at the thought of Batman, he was suddenly terribly aware of how easy it would be for the FBI agents to hand him over to Gordon and, thus, the Bat and continue with whatever case they were working on. He tugged at the handcuffs slightly; testing to see if the had been accidentally left loose enough for him to work his way out of again. They hadn't been, if anything they were too tight.

The muffled sound of voices grew louder, though not nearly loud enough for him to make out any of what was being said. Panic began to bloom in Crane's thoughts; he couldn't go into Gordon's custody, which would mean going back to Arkham. With that embedded in his mind he unwound the gauze that had been wrapped around his injured hand from his first escape attempt. Without the thick layer of medical material, the cuff around his right hand was much looser than it had been.

In the middle of working his hand through the metal loop, the door burst open and cased him to jump, reopening the gash that had only recently stopped bleeding. Standing in the doorway was one of the FBI agents, Aaron Hotchner, if Jonathan wasn't mistaken. His face that hadn't shown any emotion at the time of Crane's initial apprehension was now hosting a wave of barely contained fury. Behind the man stood Dr. Reid, clutching the strap of his messenger bag so tightly that his knuckles had turned white – he was clearly nervous about something.

Hotchner didn't speak a word to Crane as he crossed the room and produced a tracking bracelet from the pocket of his work jacket. He fixed the asylum escapee with a glare that could freeze alcohol and knelt in front of the man to attach it to his left ankle. He was silent until it was fixed snuggly around the appendage.

Once the tracking anklet was secured Hotch stood up and fixed Crane with the same furious look he'd given him just moments before. Cold dread snaked its way through out Jonathan's body as the look penetrated his hastily formed barrier of indifference.

"Dr. Reid will explain the situation to you, but I am going to tell you this now. If you harm my agent in any way, I will personally make sure you are left to rot in Arkham for the rest of your life. Do you understand me?" Hotch's words were laced with venom and left no room for debate.

To terrified to speak, Crane merely nodded and watched as the overly protective man turned on his heel to leave the room. He paused as he passed his agent, whispering something that sounded like he was confirming the young man's choice, before he left Crane's line of sight. Then there was only he and the young doctor standing awkwardly inside of the doorway, twisting the strap of his messenger bag and chewing on his lower lip.

After a moment of silence so thick a snake could have injected it with poison, Reid's caramel eyes found his and he smiled sheepishly.

"So… do you like Chinese food? I figured you must be pretty hungry if you've been running all day. We can pick some up on the way back to the hotel if you'd like."

Reid swallowed the urge to spew out statistics about the locations and types of restaurants based on the placement and size of nearby hotels and moved so that he was at the opposite end of the metal table Crane was currently handcuffed too. He then looked down at the doctor's hands, seemed to remember something and dug through his pockets and produced the key to the handcuffs around Crane's wrists. He moved to unlock the cuffs, but Crane pulled back, not allowing the confusion he felt to show on his face.

Sorting his thoughts into place, he looked up at the man standing in front of him, ignoring the innocent look of surprise on the other's face, and said the only thing that he could think to say.

"What the  _hell_  are you going on about?" The question came out more forcefully than Crane had meant it, but it had to be said.

Reid's face turned a few shades pinker than it had been the minute before and he cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. "I was going to explain on the way, but you are – that is I uh –" Reid stopped, took a breath to hide his nerves at interacting with someone he wasn't familiar with, and tried again.

"I volunteered, well, forcefully argued my way into being allowed to have you return to the hotel and, in a few days, my house with me. You clearly don't like Arkham, it clearly isn't helping you, and I, according to my team, and clearly not healed enough to be working on the Joker case." In regard to the last statement he gestured to the leg he had been shot in no more than three weeks ago.

Several emotions passed over Crane's face as he took in what the man had said. He was volunteering to… take him home with him? There was a soft chuckle in the back of his mind that alerted him to Scarecrow's presence. He briefly wondered how long his counter-part had been listening before turning his attention to what the other was saying.

" _Well, isn't he something, eh. Johny boy?"_ Scarecrow's voice was soft, almost like a purr in his ear, but it was powerful at the same time.

Jonathan gave the mental equivalent of a nod and questioned his other half on what he thought they should do.

" _I don't want to go back to Arkham, Johnny,"_ Scarecrow said with a soft, physical tremble. " _Why don't we go with him? He doesn't look to intimidating. We can just escape if we need to. Eddie knows how to get the ankle bracelets off, it couldn't hurt much."_

Pausing to consider how much wasn't  _much_  to Scarecrow, Jonathan nodded, this time physically as well as mentally. He didn't want to go back to Arkham any more than Scarecrow did, not with Batman being able to access it so easily. Not with criminals like Joker and Penguin there.

He shuddered softly at the thought and forced himself to look up to meet the FBI agent's curious gaze. He was studying Jonathan with something that was slightly more than just curiosity, something that resembled the look one got when you had just made a fatal move in chess. Before it could cause Jonathan to worry, though, it was gone and replaced with innocent curiosity.

"If you don't like Chinese food-"

"Chinese food sounds fine," Jonathan said, not letting the man finish the nervous bought of rambling he was sure would have ensued.

Reid flashed him a slight smile and bent his head to unlock the handcuffs around the man's wrists, Crane didn't pull back this time. In his head Scarecrow was laughing with something that was more than just a hint of amusement slipping through the bond he shared with Jonathan.

Reid had ordered food ahead of time so that it could simply be picked up and brought back to the hotel. He hadn't remembered that this would involve leaving a known criminal in his car to while he went inside to pick it up. He couldn't let the other man go in with him; there was a large chance that doing that would only cause chaos. It had to be done, but he was more than slightly nervous about doing it.

He had lectured Crane twice about not touching anything twice already and was opening his mouth to reiterate the rules for a third time when the other man made a sound that could only be described as frustrated. Reid closed his mouth and nodded to himself, the man had already agreed to the rules, twice. He could go inside, where he would be able to see the car, to get the food. He was the one who had argued that Crane was only like this because he hadn't been treated as a civil human being, so why was it so hard to leave him alone in the car for no more than three minutes?

As if trying to force him to get over the fear that Crane would take off with the car, Reid's stomach rumbled loudly. With a breathy sigh, Reid finally undid his seatbelt and moved to open the door.

"Stay in the car," he mumbled one last time as he stepped down onto the pavement. Heavy drops of rain splattered against his head and upper body while he stood long enough to hear Crane's confirmation before he walked inside. He refused to run when it was raining, not only did it increase the risk of him slipping and injuring himself, it would also soak him more than if he walked. Forcing himself to stay facing forward and not turn to check on Crane, Reid entered the restaurant and went to the counter to pick up their order.

In the car Jonathan sat, battling with Scarecrow in his head. He did NOT want to stay with the other doctor; he wanted to take his chances with running off. Scarecrow, however, wanted to stay and see how things played out with the man who had willingly defended them and fought to bring them to his hotel room and home. Besides those points, Scarecrow desperately loved Chinese food, and he hadn't eaten all day. With a sigh, Jonathan gave in. He couldn't win when Scarecrow began acting like a petulant child like he was now.

As Scarecrow celebrated his victory silently in their shared mind, Reid returned. If his sigh of relief wasn't enough to show that he had clearly expected the car to be gone or empty, the way his shoulders relaxed when he saw things the same as he left them was. To the young agent, the fact that things hadn't changed while he had gone to pick the order up was the first sign that maybe he had been right in defending the Arkham patient.

Reid may not have felt the same if he had known that the other was only there because his counter-part would have given him Hell for leaving, but for the moment he could feel the smallest amount of trust form. Perhaps this would be less disastrous than he thought it would be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, thank you for reading and criticisms, comments, and kudos are always welcomed!


	4. Ripple Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH! This story has had two chapters sitting, finished, on my lap top and I just haven't been able to get around to putting them up. >.

“Chaos is a friend of mine.”

Bob Dylan

 

Dinner had been strained and awkward. Reid had tried to strike up a conversation with his newest houseguest, but every attempt had failed miserably. Jonathan had tried to hold up his end of the conversations, he hadn’t liked it, but it was better than being alone with only Scarecrow babbling on his mind. Scarecrow hadn’t liked him talking to the FBI agent though. He had kept insisting that each question, no matter how unimportant, was part of a trick to get him to reveal some deep dark secret about himself. Jonathan liking the color green wasn’t going to condemn him to life in prison, no matter how you looked at it. Scarecrow didn’t believe that in the slightest, though.

Needless to say, Jonathan had allowed himself to be locked in a, what looked like a guest room of sorts, when it was first offered. He hated being caged up like an animal, but it was better than Arkham and anything was plausible if it got Scarecrow to shut up.

“This is your fault,” he hissed softly, glaring at the cheerful being that shared his mind.

A smirk and a dark chuckle were the only things he got in reply.

 

~-~-~-~-

 

            The alarm clock read 4 A.M. when the door to Jonathan’s room swung open silently. He hadn’t been sleeping, but his back was to the door at the time and he wouldn’t have noticed the figure creeping up behind him if Scarecrow hadn’t issued a silent warning.

            _“Visitor Johnny boy.”_

            Confusion crossed Crane’s face for a split second before a hand clamped down on his mouth and an all to familiar voice growled into his ear.

            “Crane.” The Bat had come to check on him already it seemed. The hand was removed when it was clear Jonathan wasn’t going to cry out and the sound of a swishing cape filled the room as Batman moved into his line of sight.

            Jonathan ran the back of his hand across his mouth as if Batman carried some sort of disgusting disease. “Surprised to see me here?” He spat bitterly at the costumed man.

            “I’ve got my eyes on you, Crane. Don’t think I don’t know how easy it would be for you to escape from this place.” If Batman’s eyes weren’t covered, Jonathan was sure the glare he was receiving would have killed him.

            “Then why let me come here?”

            There was silence for a few moments this time making Jonathan doubt he would receive an answer. He was surprised when the Bat strode forward, though, leaning in close to reply.

            “That agent is naïve, but his faith is in the right place. This city needs more people like that. Don’t force me to put you back in Arkham.” With a last menacing growl the Bat swept out of the room like a shadow, gone before Jonathan could even think of a reply.

            Not two minutes later his form was replaced by the clumsy form of one Spencer Reid in Jonathan’s door way. Funny, the Bat normally didn’t forget to relock doors. He probably had known Spencer was awake, though.

            “Dr. Crane?” The sleep filled voice was that of a child’s more than it was an FBI Agent’s. A few seconds of Spencer fumbling along the wall and the light was flicked on. Relief was written over his face when he saw the other doctor still in the room. “I heard talking, was it you?”

            Jonathan almost didn’t dignify him with a response. He tugged experimentally at the arm that was handcuffed to the head of the bed before sighing and giving in. He knew how to pick his battles, and this was one that just wasn’t worth fighting.

            “I suppose there are dozens of other people just laying around that could have done it,” he finally responded, voice dripping with sarcasm.

            Reid’s eyebrows pulled together in thought, no doubt thinking of how to respond since Crane knew he was smart enough to understand sarcasm even when he’d just woken up. Slowly he nodded and shrugged the comment off, reaching for the door to pull it shut again.

“How did this get open?” he mumbled to himself before returning his attention to Crane. “Right, well, I’m going back to bed then.”

Great. He had insulted the single being in the city, besides the Bat, who was nearly as intelligent as him. He was just great at this whole second chance thing.

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Worth the wait? Comments and kudos are loved and much appreciated. <3


	5. Dissipate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second chapter for today. Again, I'm sorry for the wait guys. ^^

“Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”

Abraham Lincoln

 

“Hotch I couldn’t just leave him in my apartment! Do you know how many ways he could have escaped, maimed himself, or-or done something else? Over 273 ways, Hotch. I-I have knives and heavy objects and-and sharp edges on shelves. He could have set traps for me or done who knows – well I know what he could have done – but that’s besides the po-.”

            There was a moment of silence as Agent Hotchner undoubtedly cut off Spencer’s rant. It didn’t last long.

            “Yes I know what he’s done Hotch, but I really don’t think he’s that dangerous. I mean you saw how Arkham was like-.”

            Another pause. Long, thin fingers sliding through already disheveled lochs of hair. Eyelids donning long lashes fluttering shut and blocking out honey colored eyes. This had been going on for the past fifteen minutes or so, all because Doctor Reid had taken his… patient, for lack of a better term, out of his apartment when he went to pick up the latest case report.

            “How can I prove he isn’t dangerous if he’s locked up like some, like some animal? That would never work; you of all people should know that! You’re talking like you -.”

            This time Spencer’s speech was interrupted by Jonathan Crane appearing beside him – how did he move so damn silently? – and snatching the phone away, snapping it shut with an irritated sigh through his nose.

            “If you are done, _Doctor_ , there is a crowd of on lookers gathering across the street.”

            A look of surprise crossed Spencer’s face as he discreetly glanced across the street. There was indeed a crowd beginning to gather.

            “This is the part where we _leave_ , Doctor. A great many of those people will not be pleased to see me in public. Sunglasses and winter hats can only hide so much.”

            Not waiting for the agent’s reply, Jonathan grabbed the still flustered man’s sleeve and began tugging him away from the prying eyes of the small crowd. He led him around the corner into an alley and out the other side onto a far less crowded street with smaller, less known businesses on it.

            “Stop!” Reid said with slight force to the words, planting his heels and stopping quickly enough that Crane was jerked back slightly. A hint of panic rose in Reid’s chest, maybe Hotch had been right after all.

            “I am not kidnapping you if that’s what you are thinking. While smart, you are far to naïve to be of any use to me.” Crane’s words were emotionless and clipped as he turned to face the agent that was supposed to have him in custody. If curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of him, and Scarecrow, Jonathan could have escaped several times over already.

            Reid had the decency to blush at Crane’s statement. Why would the man be kidnapping him? Not only did he have a tracking device on his ankle, Reid had a tracking device in his phone, as well. Of course, there was the chance that Crane thought to destroy the phone, which he mostly likely would since he was of high intelligence, but it was a comforting thought that Reid didn’t feel the need to hide away.

            The sudden sound of fabric snapping in the wind drew the attention of both men as a shadow swooped over them, temporarily blocking out what little sun there had been. Jonathan felt a shiver of fear, no, a shiver of _excitement,_ because Jonathan Crane was not afraid of anything, go down his spine as that deep growl of a voice came from the fire escape above them.

            “Don’t get any ideas, Crane,” the voice snarled warningly. Clearly the Bat didn’t know the laws regarding stalking.

            Crane, with a little prompting from Scarecrow, was opening his mouth to recite them when he was interrupted by a slightly startled voice belonging to one Spencer Reid.

            “Batman,” he said in a slightly breathy, slightly awed voice.

Typical, another member of the Batman fan club.

The masked man turned his attention to the FBI agent, studying him with piercing eyes. “You should be more careful, Doctor Reid. This man is far more dangerous than he appears to be.” That gaze was now back on Jonathan. “He was willing to torment an entire section of the city for his own amusement with no care as to what happened to his victims. He is not the type of person you should put your trust in.”

Jonathan’s attention turned to the young genius beside him. Though he stayed silent, it was more than obvious that he was looking to see how the Doctor would react to the words of the Bat Man. It would determine something deeper than he could explain. If the man had defended him earlier to give up now, before the going got rough at all, Jonathan’s interest in the young genius, his curiosity, would vanish and Jonathan would hand all control to Scarecrow.

It was likely that the only this would accomplish was the Bat throwing them both back into Arkham, a place which Jonathan and Scarecrow were both desperate to avoid at all costs, but it may just be worth it this one time.

Fortunately, Jonathan’s thoughts didn’t get to progress any further because Reid was responding to the vigilante perched on the railing of the fire escape above them.

“I’ve told you before,” he began nervously, fidgeting slightly, “I don’t think he is a bad person. Anyone who was treated that poorly for so long would retaliate. Some just... have more violent reactions than others.

“Kindness,” he said, growing a bit more confident, “goes much farther than many people care to think.”

Without waiting for a reply from the caped vigilante, Reid grabbed Jonathan’s sleeve and tugged him away from the man and towards the police precinct.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, almost to himself, “I need that report to work on the case.”

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

            It was nearly an hour later by the time the pair of young, intelligent men returned to Reid’s small hotel suite. Things in the three-room suite were far from quiet, though. After a lengthy debate on which was the best of all poets, the better literary works of the 16th century, and the best way to make tea, Reid and Crane were now bickering over the latter’s medication.

            Jonathan was vehemently insisting that he didn’t need the medication, though the words were largely forced through by Scarecrow. The man knew he needed the medications to stay in a healthy state of mind, but Scarecrow detested the pills with every fiber of his being. When Jonathan took them Scarecrow’s voice was weaker, it was as though someone had mixed too much water in with paint and it looked washed out and too thin to make a picture of any real quality.

            Unfortunately for the being that Jonathan shared his mind with, Reid was winning the argument, holding the threat of Arkham over the man’s head without abandon. Scarecrow new that this wasn’t going to end well for him and he reacted childishly, sealing off his side of the bond so that Jonathan couldn’t reach him no matter how hard he tried.

            The villainous side of Jonathan felt his other half react instantly. His words slowly faded and then stopped completely. The feeling of Jonathan without Scarecrow, or of Scarecrow without Jonathan, was like having an empty void in the mind. Both knew that there was something they were used to being there, a presence that always lingered on the edge of their thoughts, but wasn’t fully noticed until it was gone completely.

            It was like being thrown into ice water while sleeping. There was nothing that could stop the shock from spreading through the body like wild fire and causing a tremor to go down their spine. Jonathan blinked slowly, trying to conceal the reaction with a halfhearted glare to the BAU member staring him down, but Reid noticed all the same.

            “Give me the damn pills,” Jonathan growled out, angry that Scarecrow had run so childishly. He didn’t need him, though. No, Jonathan Crane did not need an imaginary Scarecrow that lived in his mind at all. He would show him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, concerns? Leave a comment!
> 
> What did you guys think? Comments and Kudos are much loved. <3


	6. Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan Crane meet Penelope Garcia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you how random this chapter is. I planned for it to include tea and small talk on the floor in front of a fire with Reid and Crane. But NOPE. The rest of the team decided to crash that party. 
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this crackish chapter all the same.

“A single spark can start a prairie fire.”

Unknown Author

 

Spencer Reid was not an idiotic man. He was not a foolish man, though he could be more than a bit oblivious at times. Now, however, he knew exactly what he was doing. In truth, he didn’t trust Jonathan Crane as far as he could throw him… and Reid couldn’t throw him at all. Jonathan, though, he didn’t know that. Not yet at least, and that’s exactly how Reid wanted it.

As long as Jonathan Crane thought that Reid trusted him, he would feel more compelled to try to improve himself, more compelled to make himself trustworthy. Normally Reid wouldn’t take such a risk, but he felt as if he had made a promise to the Doctor when he argued with Hotch, and he was going to keep it. He was going to show the man that he didn’t have to be bad. He didn’t have to be The Scarecrow.

 

_-_-_-_

 

            His mind was quiet without Scarecrow’s constant stream of consciousness in the background. It was too empty without his sarcastic comments and last minute warnings. It had only been minutes since his other half sealed himself away, but it felt like it had been a lifetime. Jonathan had done his best to hide what had happened from Reid, but he could tell he hadn’t done such a great job.

Whether he wanted to depend on Scarecrow or not, he needed the other being like he needed oxygen. His absence was the more painful than any of his grandmother’s beatings ever had been, and he didn’t know how much he could take of it. Scarecrow had been with him for as long as he could remember. They’d had fights, they’d screamed at each other and attacked each other.

They never left each other. Never.

He could feel Reid’s gaze on him. He could feel the man staring, waiting to open his mouth, to ask him to take his medications. He was going to say that Crane was sick, that he needed the medications. Maybe he was right. The medication helped to numb those feelings that made him need Scarecrow, maybe they would help him to forget him for a little while too.

“Dr. Crane, you should take your medication now. You should rest, too, you look… pale.”

Reid’s voice was soft, suggesting, not commanding even without a question. Right then it wasn’t the sort of thing Crane could refuse. He waited a few moments before nodding. It was something he needed to do now. Crow had left him, and he was alone. This brilliant man, though, trusted him. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go on and it was somewhere to start. So he started with two pills and a glass of water.

 

_-_-_-_

 

            The morning was something that came far to fast and not fast enough for Jonathan. His sleeping mind had plagued him with the horrific images of his childhood, but his waking mind plagued him with emptiness so intense he wanted to scream. Spencer hadn’t locked the door to his bedroom last night, something that would have been a sure fire way for him to escape the day before. Now, though, it was just a way for him to get out of the confined space of his bedroom and into the living room area that held the warmth of an electric fireplace.

            Spencer was, thankfully, not in the room when Jonathan slipped in like a shadow. He had gotten dressed before coming out, but his shirt wasn’t tucked in, he hadn’t put on a tie, and he’d opted to bring a blanket with him instead of putting on his jacket. Lord only knows where he’d put his shoes last night; he hadn’t been able to find them in his room. Then again, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to check under the bed. With his luck that’s probably where they were.

            Under the bed. In the darkness. Where there could be anything.

            Now that Scarecrow wasn’t there to soothe him, to tell him that there was nothing hiding in the dark… no beady eyes watching him… or talons waiting to rip at his skin… The man shuddered and sat down on the carpet near the fireplace, reaching forward to turn it on and pulling the blanket around his shoulders, tucking his knees up under his chin and hugging them to his chest.

            From the kitchenette he could hear soft classical music playing and it helped him to relax, even if it was only minutely. Not long after he’d situated himself, the soft sound of feet padding over tile reached his ears. It was followed by the even softer sound of feet padding over carpet. Then the sound stopped.

            “You’re awake.”

            He nodded even though it wasn’t a question.

            “The members of the BAU are coming here. They want to discuss the case. I told them I didn’t think you should leave the suite, though, since you didn’t look too good last night.”

            Another nod.

            “Maybe you can help them figure out a few things. You probably know more about the case than we do, honestly.”

            This time Jonathan finally looked over to the blond haired man standing a few feet diagonal of him. “You honestly think they would let a criminal who has been deemed insane assist them on a case?”

            A light blush crept on to Reid’s cheeks at the man’s words and he nervously reached up to tuck a strand of too-long hair behind his ear. “They might. You were a psychiatrist before you were hospitalized.”

            Jonathan couldn’t help but let out a snort at that. “Hospitalized? Is that what they’re trying to pass Arkham off as now? A hospital?” He turned away from Reid, staring back into the electronic flames in front of him. “What a world we live in.”

            Before Reid could answer, there was a knock at the door and he was forced to go and let the rest of his team in. If the other FBI agents noticed Jonathan, they didn’t say anything. That was until one blond technical goddess entered the room and saw the pale man and immediately went into mother hen mode.

            “Reid is this the guest you were telling us about? He looks so pale! Have you been taking care of him?” Reid barely had the chance to open his mouth before Penelope Garcia had placed her purse down on the coffee table and hustled over to a very, very startled Jonathan Crane.

            “Garcia h-he’s not exactly a-.”

            “Spencer Reid! Look at him! Oh look at you! You look half starved. Spence may be a genius, but he never was very good with people.” She threw a playfully scolding look towards her baby g-man and kneeled by the convict, ignoring whatever it was Spencer had been trying to say. Jonathan was too stunned to say anything or even form words in his mind at this point.

            It was when Penelope touched his cheek that he finally was able to react. He flinched backwards harshly, throwing the blanket off in the process, and narrowed his eyes in a menacing glare. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” He snarled, pushing himself up to his feet and straightening out his glasses.

            The tech analyst’s mouth formed a silent “oh” of surprise and she blinked up at him, unsure of what to do with a chicken that didn’t want to be cared for.

            “Hey buddy, back off.” It was Morgan’s turn to intervene, anger flaring at the man’s treatment of his baby girl.

            Jonathan’s gaze focused on the man, a low, predatory look falling over him.

            Reid didn’t give anyone else the chance to talk, instead he grabbed Jonathan’s sleeve and yanked, pulling him into the kitchen and telling him to stay there. He left before the other man could retort or lash out against him.

            From the other room Jonathan could hear them arguing in hushed tones. The voice of the angry man was one of the most pronounced in the conversation, but the voice that Jonathan knew, besides Reid’s, was Hotch’s, and he laid down the law, giving rules before a real argument could break out.

            Prentiss, Rossi, and J.J. just looked back and forth between each other, unsure of what else they could really do in the situation.

            The team’s first meeting with Jonathan Crane definitely could have gone better. As it were, it took nearly an hour for things to settle down enough for them to discuss the case. This time, Jonathan lurked in the doorway of the room, listening, but staying silent as the talked. The whole time Reid’s eyes kept flickering up to him, checking on him. It sent a wave of goose bumps down the villain’s arms and a chill down his spine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are much loved and appreciated. <3


	7. Break Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan may not get along with the entire BAU team, but he can certainly be helpful to them when the Riddler escapes and begins to terrorize Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I don't think I've updated this often in quite some time. Hopefully the updates are good enough to keep you guys reading!

“The beginning is always today.”

Mary Wollstonecraft

 

            It took two hours and Spencer bribing him with his favorite tea to get Jonathan to join the team in the living room. He had resisted firmly until the scream of a crow sounded from outside and sent him into an inner panic. Even now, as he sat tucked against the arm of the couch with the entire team visible to him and a mug of tea warming his hands, he couldn’t help but hear the echo of the sound inside of his mind. It was a terrible, loud, never ending chorus of his worst fears and most dangerous memories. He was terrified, though he refused to let it show, and still Scarecrow wouldn’t come back to him.

            Jonathan jumped when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He was only just able to keep his tea from sloshing out of the cup and onto his lap, but his heart was pounding in his chest and he already knew his mask had slipped up for a moment or two. Cerulean eyes blinked slowly as Jonathan fought to compose himself as quickly as he could. He may not have been an officer of the law, but he had done extensive research on psychology and he knew that a team of profilers would have no issues seeing right through his mask right then.

            Soft, caramel colored eyes appeared in the skittish man’s line of site as Spencer kneeled in front of him, seemingly trying to block out the rest of the room by having Jonathan focus on him.

            “Everything alright, Doctor Crane?” he asked softly, carefully keeping space between them and not touching any part of the man in front of him. Reid waited until he got a nod and a hollow eye roll in response before saying anything else. “If you’re sure… Agent Hotchner was just asking your opinion on the Riddler’s latest puzzles.” Just like that Reid was back on his feet, standing awkwardly as he spewed a information on the known puzzles, their locations, and anything else the man thought may be useful.

            Jonathan was only half listening, but he managed to pick out the important details as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch. He refused to acknowledge the stares the rest of the team sent his way.

            “Edward,” Jonathan began quietly, not looking at any of the agents but opting to stare at a window with the curtains drawn back instead. “Edward does not want to leave riddles. He has no choice but to leave them, it’s a compulsion he has tried to fight against, but can never win against. He recognizes that it is controlling him, but he will always fall victim to his own disease in the end.”

            The ex teacher raised his mug to his lips and took a few sips of tea as he settled into the language that had come to him as naturally as breathing for many years now.

            “He cannot be tried as criminally insane in most areas, because he suffers from OCD and that is not a cause for insanity. In Gotham, however,” he snorted softly, “the standard laws hardly apply. He will leave clues until you find him, not because he wants to, but because he has to. He knows he will end up back in Arkham, and that terrifies him. When you find him he will run and he won’t go quietly.” A slight smirk flickered at the corners of Jonathan’s mouth as he spoke of his previous cellmate.

“It may be best to lure him in with a riddle of your own. He won’t be able to leave until he solves it.”

Silence fell over the room like a wet, heavy blanket when Crane finished his short speech about his fellow Arkham inmate. He had spent many long weeks studying Edward Nigma when they had been forced to share a cell and he had learned much about the man that had proven useful on several occasions. He wouldn’t give the agents that information, though. No, that was for him to use for himself if he ever got into a bind and needed the Riddler’s resources.

The silence of the room was broken by Hotch speaking to Jonathan. “If that’s true, if he is going to lead us to him, why would he harm innocents and commit so many crimes? If each crime has a clue, wouldn’t he commit less of them so it would take longer to find him?”

Jonathan paused to gather his thoughts, not wanting to give any false information away and have it come back to haunt him later.

“No,” he said as he took a sip of tea, studiously avoiding the slightly awed look on Doctor Reid’s face. “He cannot control his need to leave clues and commit crimes enough to space them out over any lengthy period of time. If he could do that he would be able to stop leaving clues all together without the aid of therapy and medication.”

Hotch mulled the new information over in his head before nodding slowly, glancing up at Reid. “Do you trust what he’s saying?”

Jonathan should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. When he looked over at the man in question, though, he was biting his lip nervously, but he was nodding. The man was vouching for him, a hardened criminal. That shocked Jonathan more than Scarecrow’s absence.

“Yea,” Reid said, locking eyes with Hotch, “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Morgan opened his mouth to protest against the situation, but Rossi stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We need to trust Reid’s judgment, Morgan,” the older man told him in hushed tones.

“Rossi’s right. If Reid thinks the information is reliable we need to look into it. Morgan, Rossi, why don’t you go back to Arkham and see what you can find out about Nigma’s behavior while he was there? JJ, Prentiss, and I will see what we can dig up about his past puzzles and how long it took before police were able to apprehend him. Reid, Garcia, you stay here with Dr. Crane and see what else he knows about Nigma. We’ll meet in the morning to discuss what we find out.”

Jonathan sent a glare towards the man when he spoke about him like he wasn’t there, but if it bothered Hotch he didn’t show it.

“Alright, we’ll call you if we find anything,” Morgan informed Hotch as he pulled his coat on. Rossi nodded in agreement and they headed out the door after muttering a few “good-byes” to their coworkers. A few minutes later Hotch, J.J., and Prentiss followed them, leaving Reid, Garcia, and Crane alone together.

An awkward silence filled the room as the three of them remained in their positions, glancing back and forth between each other.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Garcia began to fidget and finally got up, crossing the room to stand in front of Crane.

“Oh, honey, I know you don’t like being touched, but you really are far to skinny. I think you are even tinier than my Junior G-Man.” She tsked softly and pushed her glasses further up her nose, pushing bright pink bangs from her face. “What kinds of food do you like? We need to get some meat on your bones.”

Reid couldn’t hide a smile as a very flustered Jonathan Crane was pestered until he finally caved in and snapped out food he thought was enjoyable enough to eat at the moment. Garcia always did have a way with people who acted tough but were really just like scared children on the inside. Reid still couldn’t get the image of those few seconds of fear that had showed on the man’s face when he’d touched his shoulder out of his mind. What could have possibly happened to cause the man such fear? He hadn’t been skittish when he’d come with Reid to the hotel suite.

Whatever it was, he was going to find out and do his best to fix it, even if it meant staying behind after the case was finished. Something told him Garcia would support that thought one hundred percent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Is Reid starting to soften up to Crane? Is Crane starting to give into his desire for company? Let me know what you think! <3


	8. Collapse

“To say goodbye is to die a little.”  
Raymond Chandler

Jonathan didn’t get to help with the rest of the case. As it turned out, neither did Spencer. Not two hours after the team had left to look into what Jonathan had told them about the Riddler, a man who claimed to be the lawyer of Jonathan’s birth mother showed up with a copy of his mother’s last will and testament. The crazy bitch had finally gotten a boyfriend who was too violent even for her to survive.   
He wasn’t heartbroken by the fact that his mother had died, he wasn’t even all too surprised really, but when he paired it with the loss of Scarecrow, it wasn’t something he was able to handle very well. Even if he hated her, even if she had left him with a horrible woman who did nothing but torture him and make his life a living Hell, even if she turned a blind eye to every bruise, every broken bone, she was still his mother… and he would only ever have one of those.   
He had retreated to his room as soon as the man had left, only having half heard what he was being told. His mother had wanted him to know when she died. She probably wanted to rub it in his face that she got to escape the cruelty of this world while he remained trapped here, bound by fear of leaving, terrified of being loved. Jonathan Crane was not meant to be loved. No, he was meant to be feared. He was the monster under the bed, the thing that went “bump” in the night, the thing moving in the closet; he was not a friend or someone to care for.   
He was not someone who could be healed with patience and hot food. His mother would want him to remember that. That’s why she’d left him to rot on that condemned property in Georgia. She would have wanted him to remember that, to shove it in his face one last time before she could no longer punish him for existing any more. Well she had succeeded. He would not stay here any longer. Scarecrow or not, he could not bear to be around people who pretended he was worth something, pretended that he could ever fit into this society. He could not. He refused too, because that was not who he was. It would never be who he was, and he had accepted that long ago.   
It wasn’t hard to escape. It should have been, especially since Spence Reid was a genius and should have foreseen him leaving. For some reason or another, though, he didn’t and Jonathan had almost no trouble getting out of the suite. He found a messenger bag in one of the closets, empty save for a few changes of clothes, and emptied it, placing the contents neatly on the coffee table. He may be leaving, betraying this man’s so called trust, but that didn’t mean he needed to throw it into the other’s face. He had some morals.   
He stuffed his few belongings, a few changes of clothes, his favorite books, and simple toiletries, into the bag and pulled on a jacket. It was cold outside, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He’d grown used to the cold over the years anyway. When one was as obsessed with perfecting something as he was with his fear toxin, things like heat and food often lost some of their importance.   
There was a moment, when he thought he heard a soft footstep, which caused Jonathan to pause and consider staying. Doctor Reid had been decent to him. He had allowed him to roam the suite almost freely for the short time he had been there, and had even allowed him to join in on the case that he and his team were working on solving. Something heavy dropped into Jonathan’s stomach, not guilt, though, he never felt guilt, as he shook his head and forced himself to keep going. He couldn’t stay here, not with this people. He would only taint them, and so he left.

_-_-_-_-_

Reid watched silently from his room as Jonathan left. He knew he should stop the man, but he was in a dangerous state of mind and letting him go might allow him to calm down and return on his own. It wasn’t worth being attacked over. The man did have a tracking bracelet on, after all, so he wouldn’t get to far. At least Reid didn’t think he would.

_-_-_-_-_

Three blocks, that was how far away he could get from the hotel without setting off his ankle bracelet. While it was frustrating to stay so close to a place where he could be caught, it would be worse if Jonathan set the damn thing off and had police chasing him down again. He wouldn’t get very far, not this time.   
Taking care not to attract attention to himself, Jonathan find a payphone as far from the hotel as he could get without going out of the three block radius. He glanced around warily before lifting the phone off the receiver and dropping a few coins into the slot at the top of the machine. Not believing what he was doing, he punched in a, sadly, familiar number and waited for the person on the other end to answer.

_-_-_-_-_

The ringing of a phone dragged an exhausted Edward Nigma from his bed. He glanced at the clock hanging perfectly straight on the wall and cursed several times at the person calling him. Whoever it was had better have a damn good reason for waking him up or there would be hell to pay.  
“Hello?” He snapped, annoyance thick in his tone.  
“Nigma,” came a cool reply on the other end of the line, the speaker clearly not phased by the unpleasant greeting.   
Almost as if someone had flipped a switch, the Riddler’s mood went from annoyed and slightly bitchy to giddy with child like glee.   
“Johnny boy! Where’ve you been? It’s been ages since you called! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten little ol’ me!” Though Edward knew that Johnny hated being talked to like that, he never could bring himself to care enough to not do it. He loved messing with the man, especially when he left him behind in that boring cell back at Arkham.   
He did that a lot come to think of it.  
The sigh on the other end of the line brought an even wider grin to the green clad man’s face. He could just picture Jonathan reaching up to push his glasses up his nose and rubbing his temple. He almost said as much, but didn’t get the chance to before his straw filled friend was speaking again.  
“If you would stop talking for more than two seconds, as hard as that is for you, I would be able to tell you that I have a riddle for you. Two if you hurry.”   
That got Eddie’s attention. “Riddles, you say?” He was already standing a little taller, looking over to the corner of the room where he always kept his shoes. “What type?”  
The smirk on Jonathan’s face was audible in his words as he spoke. “One is complicated, a person. A motive. The other is rather simple; I need you to remove a tracking bracelet from my ankle without raising alarm to those around you. We must stay within three blocks of the place I have just escaped to do so. Do you think you can handle that? If you can’t I could always call Jo-.”  
Before Jonathan could finish the Riddler was accepting the challenge. He couldn’t help it, if there was a riddle being offered he had to solve it – whether he wanted to or not. “Where are you? I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for reading! Comments, questions, and kudos are loved and appreciated.


	9. Masquerade

“How we need another soul to cling to.”

Sylvia Plath

 

            Edward was clingy. Jonathan couldn’t believe how clingy this man was. How had he possibly forgotten about that? Even now, as Edward was trying to get Jonathan’s ankle to stop bleeding, he was leaning against him, touching him too much. This had been a bad idea - a very, very bad idea.

            “Sorry, Johnny boy,” came the Riddler’s softer than normal voice. “Didn’t think that it would slip like that.”

            Jonathan knew the man was sorry. He’d heard the apology more than thirty times already as Query drove them back to wherever it was the Riddler’s current haunt was. Echo sat in the passenger seat, talking incessantly, beside her. Jonathan almost wished this had been one of those times when the green clad man had left them to be caught by the police so he could escape. He couldn’t stand the pair of women.

            Before he knew it the torturous car ride was over and he was being half dragged, half lifted out of the back seat of the car. For such a small person, Edward had more muscle than most men who went to the gym.

            “I can walk, you know. I’m not so badly injured that you need to attempt to carry me.” Jonathan’s tone was cold, but there was no energy in it. As much as he gave Edward a hard time, the man was fairly intelligent and Jonathan didn’t mind being around him as long as he didn’t touch him constantly. When that happened Edward normally ended up getting hit over the head with one of his beloved puzzle books before going to sulk in his personal room. He was very childish.

            “I know.” A devilish smirk flickered onto Edward’s face as he only took more of Jonathan’s weight onto his shoulders, completely ignoring the man’s discomfort.

If Jonathan didn’t know better, he would say that the man was attracted to him. He wasn’t, though. The only thing that Edward Nigma was attracted to was puzzles, riddles, games, flamboyancy, and the mirror he always seemed to carry with him. If he felt any attraction to Jonathan at all it was only because of his intelligence and the possibility of him creating a puzzle that was actually challenging for the Riddler to solve.

That was the Riddler in a nutshell – self obsessed and puzzle addicted.

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

            It had been three days since Jonathan had left. Reid’s hunch about him not being able to get far due to the tracking bracelet on his ankle had been destroyed. He should have known a villain as notorious as The Scarecrow was would have friends in high, or rather low, places to get him out of trouble when he was in a pinch. He never overlooked things like this. Never. Hotch had made sure to point that out when he found out the man had escaped.

            How could he have been so naïve? He had only just earned the right to carry a firearm in the field, but with this having happened so recently after he’d gained the privilege… Well, Reid might as well consider himself back to square one in Hotch’s eyes. He had definitely messed up this time.

            Almost as if the team leader were imposing on Reid’s thoughts, as if he could sense the apprehension in the mind of the team’s youngest member, he chose that moment to enter the room and seat himself across the agent.

            “It’s been three days, Reid.”

            “I know.”

            “We haven’t found any clues as to where Dr. Crane could have gone to. We did however find the tracking anklet he was wearing.” The man produced a plastic evidence bag from his inner pocket and set it on the coffee table between the two of them. “It was taped to the bottom of a subway bench. Morgan found it.”

            “I’m sorry,” Reid forced out, hands clenching into fists, clutching the material of his work pants tightly. “I really thought… All the signs pointed to him helping us. The profile didn’t suggest this at all…”

            Hotch sighed. The air leaving his lungs like the breath before the executioner swung the axe and beheaded the convicted. In this case, it was Reid’s head on the block.

            The silence that hung in the air was crushing him, driving out the small sliver of hope he’d had for the man’s return. He had profiled Jonathan Crane. He had gone over the profile and done it again from scratch. There was nothing to suggest that he would run like this, not without a good cause.

            “What if,” Reid began, something dawning on him at the thought. “What if someone called him out?”

            Hotch looked at him expectantly, his eyes blank, not daring to show hope that his resident genius hadn’t failed them after all, but his body read curiosity.

            Reid shot up from his position on the armchair, reaching over the table to snatch up papers while pushing his too long hair out of his face with his free hand. “Dr. Crane wouldn’t run. Not when he had something that interested him in his grasp.” Reid’s eyes scanned over pages of notes in cramped writing again. He’d memorized them already, but it helped to look at pages again.

            He finished with the first group of papers and threw them back down on the table, picking up the Joker’s file from Arkham, written in part by Dr. Crane himself. He found what he was looking for in the file, then picked up Crane’s own file and a newspaper dated a few days after Crane had released his fear gas on the Narrows of Gotham City.

            “I don’t think that Jonathan Crane is the one who left,” he started slowly, glancing back and forth between various papers.

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

            “Harley, have you found Johnny Boy yet?”

            “Not yet Mistah J, he’s getting’ hardah and hardah to follow these days. I hear he’s been hanging out with those feds from the FBI lately. He sure gets around.”

            A glass filled with some sort of sickly green liquid shattered against the wall near the ex psychiatrist’s head, a nasally shriek filling the air as Harley moved to the side.

            “Mistah J!” Harley whined indignantly.

            “Find him!”

            “Alright already, ya don’t have ta be so pushy.”

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

            Night fell on Gotham, bringing the fleeting shadow of a bat with it. The faintest sound of a cape fluttering on the wind could be heard if he was close enough. Hopefully he wasn’t.

            Fog rolled in off the water, coating the shadows with an extra layer of fear inducing secrecy. Anyone with a brain in their heads would be inside with the doors locked. If they had to go out they would go in a group and take some form of protection. Those who remained on the streets, the filth of Gotham, were either too stupid or too feared to be bothered by the eeriness of the night. There was only one exception to this. One man, or beast, whichever he could be considered, stalked the shadows by choice. He himself was little more than a shadow with a heartbeat and the need to breath. He was the true reason to fear the shadows, to stay away when the fog was thick and the night was in control.

            Scarecrow was here to find that man, to take that terror and enjoy it like a fine wine. A green glad form was with him, a sinister smile adorning his pale face, a question mark shaped cane in his hand. The figure was silent, save for the occasional amused chuckle. The man in front of him paid him no mind as he slipped a gas mask on and then pulled what was little more than a burlap sack over it, hiding his face from view. This was to be his night, when fear ran rampant in the streets and nothing was going to derail his plan.

            “Me thinks that there’s a bat on the roofs.”

            He didn’t need the Riddler’s warning, but he withheld a response, refusing to give in to the other man’s desperate need for attention. When he did finally give the man some tidbit of notice, the results would be better this way. It was a method similar to training a dog, really.

            There wasn’t time to think of the puzzle lover now, though, not when the Bat was so close. Not with this new toxin so fresh, the canister so smooth and cold to the touch, his fingers itching to press down against the nozzle and release it into the face of the man most people compared with the Gods.

            Batman was not a God. He wasn’t even close. Scarecrow would show them that tonight; he would show all of Gotham.

            A sound that could have easily been nothing more than a plastic bag skittering over the empty street reached the ears of both men and they fell silent, not moving, barely breathing. He was there. The man of the hour, the son of the night, any number of names had been given to the man, but Scarecrow would refer to him only as one.

            “Hello Batman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of the different tones? Which do you like better? What should change? I'm just playing around a bit, so I'm glad for any constructive criticism or advice.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and comments and kudos are loved!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated. (:


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